


Somnus

by CeeKari



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Consensual Somnophilia, F/M, Multi, Offscreen Kink Negotiation, Polyamory, Slow Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeeKari/pseuds/CeeKari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are currently standing in front of the door to the respite block belonging to Rose Lalonde, consequential to a discussion you had with Rose three days prior. It was a wholly mortifying but very enlightening conversation, centered around your respective kinks, how you could each play to them, what you'd like to do to and with and for each other. You'd explained yours, and Rose had given you the words for them. Then she explained some of hers and wow, those were things you had not thought of before. </p>
<p>	You are definitely thinking of them now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).



Be Karkat--> In the past

It's been an... interesting thing that's been happening. With you and the humans. You'd honestly expected them to go for one another for ages, all of them were tangled in a clustercladefuck of epic proportions. Dave had dated Jade, and had been flushed for John since, if you understand correctly, the gogdamn beginnging. Jade loves Dave, and gets along so well with John that the introduction of physical intimacy was an only natural evolution of the relationship. And John just. Loves everyone, apparently. You remember when he confessed to you, some few years ago, that he had abandoned his “not a human homosexual” idea in favor of dating Dave. You'd gloated over that, until you realized he had told you the “not a homosexual” thing while turning down your admittedly horrendous advances. Now he apparently was a homosexual, and he was still not dating you. 

And then he and Dave and Jade and Rose pulled you into a room and “explained you a thing,” as Jade had put it, and that thing was that the four of them were all dating each other. At the same time. And even that wasn't enough for them, the romantically avaricious alien weirdos, because the next thing they 'splained you was that they, all four, wanted to also date you. 

You remember how tight your chest felt, how certain you were that they were playing a cruel joke, how you screeched at John and railed at the others for going along with his stupid pranks. 

John was the first to kiss you. Then the rest of them in turn, Dave, Jade, and Rose. By the time they finished with their sweet, chaste and lingering kisses, your lips tingled and you couldn't think of a word to say, except yes. 

 

Be Karkat--> In the present

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are currently standing in front of the door to the respite block belonging to Rose Lalonde, consequential to a discussion you had with Rose three days prior. It was a wholly mortifying but very enlightening conversation, centered around your respective kinks, how you could each play to them, what you'd like to do to and with and for each other. You'd explained yours, and Rose had given you the words for them. Then she explained some of hers and wow, those were things you had not thought of before. 

You are definitely thinking of them now, though. 

You reach reach for the doorknob, fingers gripping cool metal, and twist. 

The door opens. 

Your held breath whooshes out of you. 

She left her door unlocked. She left her door unlocked. She said- when you'd talked about this, this particular idea-scenario-thing, she'd said she would, because how would it work otherwise, fucking duh. But the fact she actually did means...

If she had changed her mind, she would only have needed to lock the door. If she had doubts, or didn't want you, or was just, just playing with you or teasing you or making a fool of you, all she needed to do was lock that door. The fact she left it open means she wants this, wants you and trusts you. You swallow hard.

Of all of them, Rose has been the one you were least sure of. Of all of them, Rose is the one who best understands trolls and your culture, what it means to trolls to let yourself be vulnerable in front of someone else. You've doubted her before. But here's proof. 

A person is never more vulnerable than when they're asleep. 

You've been standing in the doorway, hand still on the knob. Now you gather yourself and step forward, easing the door open inch by inch. To your relief, it doesn't creak. 

The room smells like Rose, you notice, tea and cloves and old books. It's dimly lit with the soft LEDs of Rose's computer and a couple of game systems. Her needles on the desk also glow with a muted light. It's just bright enough for you to work with, so you don't trip and make a total ass of yourself before you've even started. To your right is the organized wooden computer desk. To your left, along the wall, a short shelf of hardback books in English and Alternian. Hey, you recognize that one. So that's where it went. You should have guessed. In the corner, on the back wall, an upholstered armchair holding a pile of wound yarn skeins and unfinished knitting. And to the right of the chair, the bed.

And on the bed, Rose. 

She's sprawled on her back, arms up and under her pillow, her rumblespheres bared by the position. The dark tips of them make an enticing contrast to her otherwise pale skin. Her lips are parted slightly, her breathing slow and even, expression serene. Her hair, freed from the headband, is a mess of puff-flower fluff, endearingly ruffled. The sheet she sleeps under is crumpled around her waist, leaving her unprotected stomach exposed. 

Your bloodpusher twinges. She's so pretty, in that otherworldly, alien way. They all are. You don't know if you'll ever understand why they want you. 

You creep over, very slow and quiet, until you are at the foot of the bed. You frown. Climbing up is going to be awkward. But maybe... 

The armchair isn't heavy when you pick it up, and you carefully set it down at the foot of the bed. Climbing up onto it gets lets you step onto the bed rather than crawl. You ease forward, placing your feet with care, until you're standing over her with one foot on each side of her thighs. It's maybe not the best way to proceed, but the position does give you a good view. She looks so soft. So vulnerable. So unwittingly trusting and open. 

Your bulge begins to unsheathe as your nook moistens. You want her. And she said she wants you. She said you could have her. Said you could have her while she sleeps, said she wanted that. 

You tug the sheet a bit, wanting to see more. And see more you do. Fuck, she's wearing those black lace panties, the ones from the first time she let you see her naked, the first time you touched her. You bite your lip. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks, up to your ears, while the rest of your blood heads south to swell the folds of your nook and help your bulge emerge the rest of the way. It snakes its way out from the leg of your boxers, away from the rough fabric, searching for something softer to slide against. 

God, you haven't even touched her yet and you're this undone. You continue gazing at her, admiring, while you decide the best way to continue.

Ever so carefully, you kneel, freezing awkwardly for a few moments when shifting your weight causes her to roll toward your right leg. She barely stirs before settling again, and you let out the breath you'd been holding as you sink down to your hands and knees over her, straddling her hips. 

So long as you are very careful about it, you can do what you like to her. Touch where you like. Look where you like. You are maybe a little disappointed with yourself when you realize you can't think of anything particularly creative to do with her lying so pliant under you. But at the same time, there is plenty you want to do, creative or not, starting with her rumblespheres. 

Breasts, you remember Rose saying as you very lightly stroke the starting swell of one, just under her collarbone. The finest tremor, there and then gone, goes through Rose's frame. You hesitate, watching her face. Her expression is lax, no movement, no indication of wakefulness. Good. Okay. You keep your eyes on her face as you trail your finger down, ghosting it just over her nipple. It's already rigid to the touch, and as you very gently rub it back and forth, it swells further, the color deepening into a sweetly appealing mammalian pink. You rub it with your thumb, maybe a bit entranced. She makes a quiet sound in her throat. You watch her warily, thumb stilling. Is she asleep? 

You've seen humans sleep before, and they do move and make noises pretty frequently- the first time you'd seen John asleep, you thought he was dying. Jade laughed at you for thinking his 'snores' were death rattles. And Dave, for god's sake, walked into the nutritionblock and had an entire conversation with you, one that made even less sense than usual, something about wanting to hang his vinyl music discs from the ceiling, and when you'd asked him about it later he hadn't remembered any of it, because he was asleep and somehow still walking and talking despite it. 

You're pretty sure humans would benefit from sopor. No one should be that fucking active when they're supposed to be resting. 

Rose quiets once more, and you shift your weight to the opposite hand so you can cup her other breast in your palm. Hers fit snugly in your hand, smaller than Jade's. You squeeze, flexing your fingers against skin that yields so easily to the pressure. You feel the nipple stiffen against your palm, and you slide your hand around to catch it with your thumb and forefinger, roll it between them. You bite your lip and look at Rose's face. Still asleep, as far as you can tell. Your bulge coils restlessly against your thigh. 

It takes you longer than you like to adjust your position so you can press your mouth to her neck. If she were awake, it would be a reminder of her vulnerability; her answering acquiescence a token of her trust. As it is, you're only enjoying the feel of her skin, her pulse under you lips. You kiss softly, and then gently, so gently, nip at her collar. She sighs and turns her head away, but her eyes remain shut. You shift down just a tad more to kiss the top of a breast before taking the nipple between your lips. You tug at it, seal your mouth over it and suck, close your teeth on it, not so much a bite as teasing with the sharpness of your fangs.

There's more of her to be had than her breasts, though, much as you like them, and your bulge reminds you of your needs with a slow twist. Cautiously, you sit up on your knees and shuffle backwards, leaning back down when your face is even with her belly. You press a single, reverent kiss there, just above the navel, just where it's softest, before moving further down. 

The sheet. You're kneeling on it and it's in the way. You shift one knee off and tug it out from under you, over Rose, before rolling to the other knee- ack, and causing her to roll some, too, damn it- but it doesn't seem like it woke her, so. That's good. You finish lifting the other knee and half push, half kick the sheet away with your foot.

She's bare before you but for those panties. You bulge lashes sharply at the visual. You steel your resolve, take a deep breath. Have to be careful. Can't move too fast. You sit back, trail your fingers along the top of one thigh, moving up slow, over the fabric that wraps around her hip, stop at the waistband. You frown. There's no way you can get these off of her. Not without waking her up. Or else tearing them. You bite your lip at the thought of just ripping them open so you can take what you want. That'd be. Yeah. Kinda hot. But Rose likes this pair, you're pretty sure. You don't want to piss her off. 

You lay your palm over her mound, fingers spread to just under her navel. You rock forward and press your lips above your fingertips, dip your tongue into the small, alien indent. That ordinarily makes her giggle. Right now, her stomach trembles under your tongue and she remains silent. Definitely asleep, then. On impulse, you open wider and press the points of your fangs to the thin skin of her belly. She moans sleepily, a tiny little noise.

Fuck, you want her. You want to see how far you can go before you really do wake her, want to see what she'll do when she wakes with you, fuck, with you in her.

You skim your fingers back over her panties, venturing lower this time. Her legs are pressed too close together to reach where you want, though. You catch one of her knees, slowly push it out and up. That's enough space for one of your own legs to fit between hers. You take the space and move her other leg the same way. You're kneeling between her thighs now, your own legs keeping hers apart. If she wanted to close them now, she couldn't. The most intimate, sensitive parts of her are open to you, only guarded by sheer lace. 

You reach forward, catch the edge of the crotch with your index finger and pull it aside. Your mouth goes dry and your eyes go wide. She's soaking, you can see it already, the dewy glistening between the smooth folds of her nook. You've been wet for awhile, but you know that happens more readily for trolls than it does humans. You look up to her face and lick your lips. Her eyes shift under the lids. Dreaming? Is that why she's already- your eyes flick back down to her core and you bite back a groan. What's she dreaming of? You? Is what you're doing coming through into her dreams? 

You touch her and shudder at the feel of that wetness, that heat, on the pad of your finger. Your own nook is drenched, you can feel the lubricant seeping out, rolling down your thighs. You dip into the cleft of her, press against the hard little nub that would be the tip of her bulge if she were a troll. She arches and whimpers. Awake? Asleep? You can't tell. You rub up and down, two fingers now, one on each side of that nub, trapping it between them. She's still, but her breathing is heavy. 

You slide your fingers down through her folds, stopping just at her entrance. The muscles of her inner thighs quiver against your legs. 

“Rose,” you breathe, quiet as you can, “is this okay?” You push your fingers forward the barest millimeter. “Or do you want me to stop?”

There's no answer, only Rose's miniscule shaking and deepening breaths. She isn't telling you no, though, and oh god, that's a really rapey thought to have when she's maybe asleep and can't, but she did say, before, when you talked about this, that she wanted it. Wanted as much as you were okay with giving her. 

You press two fingers in, slowly, slowly, and you whine when you feel her muscles clenching at you. She's tight, always is, much tighter than a troll, but she stretches easier, too. The walls of her nook spread to accommodate you as you thrust shallowly, mimicking the bulge of a human. You watch your knuckles, the first set, then the second, disappear and reappear, again and again. You listen to the small wet noises your fingers make as you fuck her with them. Your nook clenches on nothing. Your bulge coils in on itself, desperate for stimulation. 

You want. Fuck, you want. Fingering her is fantastic, watching her and listening to her, but you need more than that. She said you could give her as much as you wanted, and just now you really, really want to give her your bulge. You slide your fingers free of her and rock back to crouch on your heels. It takes some balance, but like this you can catch your boxers, work them over your hips, around your knees and off one foot and then the other. They end up in the floor somewhere, doesn't matter where, they'll need washed before you even think of putting them on again, soaked as they are. 

You scoot closer again, your hips between her thighs. Your bulge is curled against your belly. You take it in one hand, squeeze firmly once, twice, before guiding it to her crease. 

It slides along, pressing and teasing along her outer lips and on your sensitized bulge you can feel the barest hint of roughness from where she shaved herself yesterday. You shudder when it works itself between her lips, nudging along the soft ridges of her and slipping lower until it finds her entrance. You forget to hold back a groan as it surges into her with a long, rolling thrust. Your hips follow it without your input, driving your bulge the last spare inches to the hilt. Rose gasps sharply. Your head snaps up to look at her face. That wasn't a sleep noise, was it? Her eyes are still closed, but her brows are furrowed and her lips are parted and she's panting shallowly. Her hands grip the edge of her pillow tightly. On each side of your hips her thighs tremble and tense. 

“Rose?” you whisper, throat tight. “You okay?”

You think she's awake, maybe. She might still be dreaming, it's possible, you think, but it also looks like she could be awake and pretending really hard to still be asleep. But she doesn't answer you. Nn, what are you supposed to do? If she's awake she's almost definitely wanting you to move, to go faster, but if she's asleep you don't want to wake her and fuck up the scenario. You tremble with the effort of keeping your bulge unmoving inside her. Her muscles tighten around you. You bite your lip and look down, focusing on the spot where the two of you merge, your vivid red vanishing into her soft pink. You want to move already, need to move, need to hold her closer and fuck her properly. Want to wrap around her, keep her protected and safe while you fuck her, for pity's sake.

You remember what she said, that she said the point was for you to do as you liked without her input. You have permission to do as you like, she said. 

You fall forward onto your forearms, rest your forehead on her collarbone. You shake as you let your bulge thrash inside her. If she wakes up, so be it, you've played to the scene as long as you can.

There's an almost continuous whimper coming from low in Rose's throat and you turn your head to kiss at the source. You don't know if she's awake right now and that's alright, you're having her either way, she said you could have her. You rock your hips, drag your bulge back just an inch or so before letting it sink back in and repeat the movement. You know humans do the back-and-forth thrusting thing, but Rose has always said she loves the way your bulge moves. The sensations are close to overwhelming you, the heat of her, the tightness, the wetness of your mixed fluids between you. The smell of her hair when you bury your face in her shoulder. You sob your pleasure into her skin and don't bother trying to stifle it. 

Rose's breath comes raggedly and she arches under you, her hips rocking up to meet yours. She's close and it's beautiful, no matter how many times you get to see it you will always think so. Another twist of your bulge, another roll of your hips and she comes undone, her face pressed to your cheek and her arms locked around your shoulders as she shakes and whimpers her way through her orgasm. Her nook ripples around your bulge. 

You lean up to check on her and meet her almost tyrian gaze. She half-sits and twists to reach beside the bed and you can't say anything, can't speak, you're still bulge-deep in her and your throat is too tight with repressed noises. She comes back up holding a, oh god, holding a pail. 

“Sit up,” she says, and though her tone is warm, her voice is rough and a thrill shoots through you because you did that to her. She pushes at you, arranges you and you slip out of her with a whine while she settles the bucket between your thighs. She takes your bulge in one hand, squeezing rhythmically along the length like you showed her works best. Your eyes fall shut. She rests her other hand just under your bulge, dips a long, slender finger into you. You cry out sharply and rock against her as she gives you another, driving her fingers deeper. 

“Please,” you gasp. “Close, I'm so fucking close!”

“I know,” Rose murmurs, and spreads her fingers in you, twists them, crooks them, slides them back and forth. The hand on your bulge squeezes, clench and release, clench and release, and it's too much, too too much and you wail as every muscle in your body locks up and you come hard, your material released in a sudden rush. Rose doesn't let up, her fingers still stroking your insides, coaxing you through the aftershocks. You are a whimpering, shaking mess, and you have to cling to Rose's shoulders to stay upright. 

God. Oh, fuck, that was intense. Rose takes the bucket and sets it aside before she pushes you over. You let yourself topple onto the bed, too boneless to resist. Rose curls against your side. 

For a few long moments you both catch your breath. 

“I woke you up,” you say finally. 

Rose chuckles. “Did you expect me to sleep the entire way through?” she asks. 

“Hadn't thought that far. Wasn't intending to actually pail you when I started. Was thinking just touching. Maybe just trying to get you off with my fingers.” Your cheeks burn. “Didn't expect to be that turned on.”

Rose pats you in a way that borders on patronizing, gives you a smile that's all the way there. 

“I woke up when you climbed onto the bed,” Rose says. 

You stare at her blankly. “You what.”

She smiles. “When did you realize I was awake?”

You sputter, “Fuck, I thought maybe when I first got inside you, but I wasn't sure until you were coming!”

Rose chuckles. “I didn't realize I was so convincing. I felt like I was making too much noise.”

You drag a palm over your face. “Like I know how much noise is too much noise for sleeping humans. John snores so loud I'm surprised it doesn't wake up people in other rooms-”

“Sometimes does,” Rose corrects.

“-And Jade flips and rolls and mumbles, and Dave is capable of holding a conversation in his sleep that's as coherent as anything that comes out of his mouth while he's awake.” You throw your hands up. “So I woke you up before we even started. Great. I'm the ultimate sex fuckup.”

Rose hums and walks her fingers over your ribs. “You're not. I liked it,” she says. 

You snort. “You're welcome for the blown scenario, then.” 

Rose rolls her eyes. “I mean it. That was precisely the experience I wanted,” she says. “The thought of you doing it while I was asleep is... interesting. But I wouldn't have been able to experience it that way. You were perfect.”

The concept of yourself and 'perfect' being anywhere related is not easy to accept. 

“It was really alright for you?” you ask. “Don't spew sugarcoated bullshit at me just to spare my tender feelings.”

Rose drags her fingers through your bangs. “I'm saying it because it's true. I'd greatly enjoy doing this again. Maybe next time we could have a sleepover and involve the others.”

You think about that. You think about that very hard. The four of them, asleep in one room, the common room, maybe. You working by the light of the TV, doing what you did to Rose to each of the others, one by one. Even if Dave woke up when you started riding him, he wouldn't be able to mask his noises with rambled words because he's supposed to at least pretend to be asleep. And you could have Jade as slow as you wanted, because she'd have to be patient this time, because she's asleep. Seeing John try to keep a straight face and actually be quiet when you took him in your mouth would be fantastic. And while you were working on one of them, all the others, if any of them were awake, would have to lie there and listen to whatever soft noises came to them, wonder what you were doing, and wait in aroused torment for you to get to them. 

“I could ask the others, if you think you might be interested?” Rose asks. 

You grin at her. “I could maybe be persuaded,” you allow.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, I haven't posted fanfiction in, like, ten or twelve years. Gotta say, I wasn't expecting to break the dry spell with Homestuck porn! Ah, well, it is what it is. (Bear with me while I figure out AO3's posting nuances.) Comments and critiques welcomed, and please let me know if I messed anything up. 
> 
> This story is based on a [lovely piece of art](http://syblatortue.tumblr.com/post/127203068191/what-do-you-mean-no-one-asked-for-that-particular) made by the even lovelier [Syblatortue.](http://syblatortue.tumblr.com/)


End file.
